


Valinor

by wanderingsmith



Series: Foresight [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very pleased at the open, vulnerable look that had appeared on his once stony features at her son's name, Belladonna laughed abruptly, arm tightening around Bungo's waist, "My word, he actually won you!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valinor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> yes, I'm ignoring afterlife/Valinor theory
> 
> and yes, I populate Thorin with sigils. again. ;)

"Master dwarf."

Thorin, interrupted in his brooding stare at the always disturbing endless horizon of water, gave a very brief, but polite, nod to the newcomers; certainly far more polite than he would have given had they been any of the poncy elves littering the grounds around the wharf.

"I would not have thought Mahal's children would come here."

Thorin looked over at the continued conversation, but did not bother to bring his mind out of the past, "I did not know your own people came here afterwards either."

Bella ignored her husband's exasperated attempts at shushing her, used to his dislike of her open ways with Outsiders, even here. Primula and Drogo certainly wouldn't care about her lack of reserve, standing next to her looking at the armoured and fur-clad dwarf sticking out among the willowy silk-clad elves, like an oak among wildflowers, in unabashed curiosity. "Are you waiting for the wiz-" Belladonna gasped as the wind raked his oddly, for a dwarf, loose hair and she caught sight of one of his beads, "You're a Durin!"

Thorin turned fully at that, his attention drawn, brows raised in surprise and automatic suspicion, "You know me?"

Belladonna stared at the taller stranger with the hungry curiosity of a mother, suddenly very clearly remembering the wizard's words to her, a few weeks before her death. Black hair, hardly any braids, fine brigantine armour, short-trimmed beard. "No.." she heard the breathless quality to her voice and felt Bungo step closer to her in worry at what no doubt seemed a strange reaction, "No, but I know the sigil of Durin."

Calming slightly, Thorin raised an only wary brow, frowning at the perhaps vaguely familiar middle-aged female hobbit. It stood to reason Bilbo had relatives, but it still seemed odd that they should recognize his family crest. "Even that is strange for hobbits."

"Are you-" Belladonna started to smile, started to hope. All these years that she'd asked newly arrived hobbits for news of her boy, all she'd heard, beyond a yearlong adventure, were more and more worrisome reports of an eccentric hobbit living a lonely life. At least until he'd taken Frodo in, after many long years... But now. A Durin, looking like Gandalf had described, obviously waiting for Bilbo's ship, and familiar with hobbits; perhaps Bilbo really had known love, as Gandalf had led her to hope, "Are you Bilbo's?!"

Thorin's breath caught, the words too close to the fervent thoughts he had been lost in just moments ago. Had let himself be lost in all too often for the last 80 years. If only...

Very pleased at the open, vulnerable look that had appeared on the previously stony features at her son's name, Belladonna laughed abruptly, arm tightening around her Bungo's generous waist, "My word, he actually won you!"

"Who are you??"

Bella grinned at the almost-shout, recognizing dwarven confusion turning to anger, "We are Bilbo's parents," she turned her grin briefly at her nephew, "And his cousins."

Thorin's eyes dropped at the words, swallowing hard. He had never expected to have to explain himself to- How.. how could he even begin.. But having met them, he would at least follow the forms. It was the least he owed for his initial wilfull blindness, and for allowing himself to fall like his grandfather.

When the dwarf went to get down on a knee, Bella stepped forward briskly, waving him up, "Oh nonono, none of that, now. We're not dwarrows, we don't need all that formality, my boy." Seeing some pain now behind his lingering shock that was less amusing, she smiled a little more gently, softening her voice, "We'll just wait for Bilbo and then we can all go and have some lovely tea and-" she stopped, remembering her own arrival, years ago; full of tears and long hugs, before they'd found privacy, even. "Well, after the two of you have some time alone, at least, you can come by and we can have a meal." Whatever meal was appropriate for the time when they could bear to separate, she thought hopefully.

Bungo, on the other hand, didn't like the guilt that even he had recognized flashing across those bearded features that he couldn't give an age to. He'd never liked the sound of that story Bella had told him of the blasted wizard's foresight, and although he grudgingly agreed that the dwarf's presence here today probably indicated.. well. Still; what had he done to Bilbo that being faced with his parents made an obvious warrior seem to shrink so badly??

Before any of them could say more, they heard the murmur of the elves who stood a few yards nearer the wharf, and looked up to see a bright ship come around the bay.

Thorin's eyes immediately strained, the consuming need to *see* Bilbo after all these years-

"Master dwarf?"

His eyes whipped back around at the voice, meeting sympathy in the dark eyes of Bilbo's mother, darker than Bilbo's, though as friendly and curious. And he was brought up short, the old familiar guilt and grief that had been brushed aside at the thought of seeing- he had not realized that there would, of course, be others to meet his hobbit. There was no reason for him to darken those reunions with the memories he would no doubt bring up. 

Thorin straightened, making sure he cleared his features of any feeling before he nodded to the hobbits and prepared to return to the rooms he had been given while he stayed here, "I will let you-"

Bella frowned, increasingly worried at just what had caused the pain that such a closed, regal expression was hiding, "Nono, you should-"

"Mistress Baggins, though you are unexpectedly correct and I do wish to court your son, he has reasons to refuse me." Reasons was putting it mildly; only his faith, weak as it was, in a few memories of warm looks let him even dare think of begging the honour, "I would rather he be welcomed by those I am certain he wishes to see."

Bella could recognize a stubborn will when she saw it, but she was not about to dismiss Gandalf's assertion, all those years ago. Nor the story from two of her more adventuresome nephews, who thought Bilbo seemed grief-stricken on returning from that adventure, rather than merely having gone 'mad'. Gandalf had not said Bilbo's mate survived the orcs. And though the dwarf's presence and behaviour told her her son's affections were returned, said it clearer, even, than any stated wish to court, still, she was not so foolish as to think that love kept misunderstandings and conflict from hurting, and even breaking, relationships. If the dwarf died believing himself cast aside... Bella was not so cruel, without knowing the actual story, as to force him, or Bilbo, to rehash their problems in the midst of a crowd of elves. Though she *was* tempted; the dwarf *had* come here, to the Undying Lands and to Bilbo's arrival, after all! 

"Very well, I will not force you to go first, as I think you should. But you had best stay right where you are or I shall be very loudly cross with you, Durin or no." And if that was more so that she would be sure to witness their reunion than out of any particular concern regarding Bilbo's ability to hunt him down, well, she was family, *her* curiosity did no harm and was not optional.

After staring back at the unsurprisingly familiar fierce glare for a few moments and realizing she would no more retreat than Bilbo had, Thorin's lips finally twitched, allowing the amusement to push back, for a moment, the old familiar darkness, and bowing his head briefly in acceptance, "Having had your son cross with me, I would not wish to chance she whom I do not doubt taught him."

The ever so brief smile made Bella's eyes widen at the change it wrought. Oh my, yes, this one would be 'fair' indeed when he truly smiled. Her heart felt near to bursting with joy for her boy. 

\--------

Bilbo was standing quietly to the side of the wharf, watching Elrond, the Lady and Gandalf greet their friends, and simply enjoying the ability to breathe and stand and think without the pains of age and the weight of the ring dragging him down. He looked besides him to Frodo and was glad to see that the crossing had also left him standing straighter and brighter than he had since he'd taken up that blasted ring. He looked like a healthy hobbit again; though they both needed some meals in them to be respectable ones. He was watching their friends with his old sweet smile, even, and wasn't that something worth seeing!

About to turn to stare some more at the wonder that was the sea, Bilbo's eyes widened at the sight of grinning hobbits hurrying through all the tall elves toward the new arrivals. Clapping his boy's shoulder to catch his attention, Bilbo rushed to them, giving his well-rounded cousin and his Brandybuck lass a brief grin before they were wrapped around their own no-longer-little faunt, and wrapping his own arms around both his mother and father, tears coming to his eyes as he stared at the so very young and happy features of his parents, "What are you doing here??"

His mother laughed, wide smile as carefree as he could barely remember, "We were going to bring you home with us for a nice long visit, of course!"

"But.. I thought only elves came here! And you d-" Bilbo choked, the old hurt making the word unvoiceable, right then.

The arms around him tightened, pulling him that little bit closer to their warm and so very alive and healthy-seeming bodies, and he made his smile come back, too pleased to see them again to let the hurts of the past darken the day. 

"Mortals don't come here when we die, generally, but we do all go to a place, and there is more travel between those and here than was spoken of in the histories."

"Oh. Well I'm glad." He would have been content to live out a few more days of life among the elves before consigning himself to whatever may or may be beyond for hobbits. To not only discover that there was indeed life awaiting his kind, but that it had access to Valinor, where he now had quite a few friends, was almost as peace-inducing as having the damage of the last few years of his life smoothed away on the approach to the Undying Lands. 

When a sad little voice at the back of his mind tried to muse if perhaps the Halls- he subdued it with long practise. "But you said you *were*?" he pulled back, smile firmly in place, meeting his father's tolerant look at not managing to get a word in. Bilbo had almost forgotten how the very Baggins hobbit sometimes faded quietly back when his shining wife spoke.

"Yes," Bella smiled gently, her mother's eyes spotting the wounded tightening to her son's eyes but not having enough information to make a guess to what caused it. Well, time to see if her matchmaking instincts were as sharp as when she'd managed to marry off half her siblings. "But there's someone else here with higher rights to you, I think." Bungo reluctantly released Bilbo, with a single *look* in her direction -she *had*, after all, successfully married off three of his cousins-, and she turned their light-stepping but elderly-appearing son to look where the dwarf stood. 

She was watching her son's features like a hawk, and was amply rewarded and reassured by the ecstatic wonder she saw appear. And oh that wide smile, utterly unchanged by time's ravages on the face that carried it; she hadn't seen that since he was such a wee lad. She wiped a tear as Bungo put an arm around her shoulders, watching with her as their little fauntling took off running with a shouted "Thorin!", and very deliberately made his leap at the dwarf into a tackle, managing somehow to send the very sturdy creature to the ground. 

But Bella suspected, by the joy that had finally replaced somber grief on the dwarf's features as their wizened little Bilbo ran to him, that the stubborn fellow had finally gotten the hint that whatever reaction he'd feared from her son, it was not going to appear. And perhaps, just perhaps, he did not object to being laid on the ground with madly laughing hobbit limbs wrapped around him.

She refused to look away from the proof that her boy had indeed, finally, lived a full life. Even though she heard the elvish laughter around them. It didn't sound cruel, and though she'd become Baggins enough to cringe at such a private moment being watched, she'd also seen that old tease Elrond standing next to Gandalf, and a few others had travelled with Bilbo and therefor were likely friends, and she could hear Gandalf's own rough chuckles among them, and she'd heard enough to know *he* had been a friend to her son in his later years.

"Is that the king??"

At *that*, however, Bella's head whipped away from her son and his mate to the young hobbit she'd never gotten to meet, her eyes wide, "King??" Though she'd thought of the possibility, years ago, she had never met any actual kings; it was more difficult than she'd expected to casually think that her son's suitor was royalty!

Ignoring his elders' exclamations, Frodo could not help staring at the couple on the hillside, shocked at how.. *happy*, his uncle looked. He finally answered quietly, "Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, was king of.. well, the *people* of Erebor, at the least. Though perhaps he was only ever actually crowned prince... He died before they resettled in the mountain. I never knew uncle..." He could not even quite say 'loved him' out loud. He'd lived 12 years with his uncle. Had read the story of his adventure.. and yet he'd never guessed that it was lost love that so often brought that desolate look to the older hobbit's features. 

"At least we know his name, now. But we should definitely not be watching this." Bungo muttered as their apparently son-in-law-to-be rolled to cover their obviously overjoyed Bilbo, and that loose hair, completely unlike any dwarf he'd ever seen pass through the Shire, fell forward to hide their faces. Just as well, he suspected; hair or no hair, he could tell a head bending to kiss as well as a Took could! And while laying down in *public*! ..Well. This had to date from that adventure he and Bella had heard of, and that had been more than a few years ago; he could, somewhat, understand that the boys might long for closeness. He knew *he* had...

He had to tug at Bella to make her turn, tutting scoldingly and ignoring her rolled eyes; holding her perhaps a little closer than was entirely respectable. Then he cleared his throat loudly at the younger folks, tacking on a frown, protective of his son's privacy; and proud of his nephew for still being respectable enough to listen, even if he did marry a Brandybuck! Though the lass *had* turned out to be rather sweet.

And then he could see that the elves around them were also staring at his boy and his strange dwarf. As well as that wizard Bella was so fond of. He glared at them all as fiercely as he'd ever practised, and was pleased when quite a few of them not only noticed, but actually looked abashed and began muttering at their fellows. It took all his self-control not to show how pleased he was with himself at the crowd slowly dispersing, in the opposite direction as the couple still lying far too intimately on the hillside. That the wizard stayed behind annoyed him less when the old man at least turned to face Bungo and his family with a happy smile. Though that last pat to the departing dark-haired elf with a circlet was rather less than respectable in public! Big folk! No sense of decorum, whatsoever!

Gandalf had to admit, to himself, and perhaps to Elrond, that he was a little surprised at the turn of events. He hadn't had much reason to think of Thorin Oakenshield in quite some time; he was a little ashamed to admit he'd mostly forgotten the grief that resulted from that old quest. Which was rather unfair, being as he *had* known that the Ring was not the only reason Bilbo had become so quiet on his return. 

Meeting Bella's bright eyes, he grinned, "I'm afraid you turned out to be entirely too correct regarding the rank of Bilbo's mate." Remembering several very frustrating moments from that time in his life, he rolled his eyes, "As well as regarding both their righteousness. Though I'm told that Bilbo dealt with him quite well, for a time." Just in time, he remembered Elrond's not at all subtle warning not to let spill other people's secrets here, and he bit off any further comments, turning away from Bella's sudden suspicion to instead watch the couple on the hillside. He wondered where they would choose to spend the time until the remaking; Bilbo would have enjoyed Valinor, but imagining *Thorin* here...

\----

Grinning at having bowled his mighty dwarf over onto the wonderfully fragrant grass, Bilbo let his head rest for just a few precious moments on the painfully-familiar armoured chest, speaking through a happy sigh, "Thorin. I have missed you, my friend." He had not realized how much the grief at the back of his mind still dug at him; not until he'd seen Thorin and *known* that the king was there for Bilbo. That he would not.. that he would have a second chance. And this old hobbit knew to appreciate any bit of joy he could grasp!

Powerful arms wrapped around him ever so gently, and then a hoarse voice that he'd missed more than he could have imagined possible rumbled under his ear, "Ghivashel.."

His breath catching and only slowly releasing, Bilbo pulled back carefully, his happy smile softening with love. Love he had *never* imagined he would ever be free to let show, not even when he'd seen Thorin waiting for him here. It was almost awe that filled him, if dosed with disbelief, as he whispered, "Ghivashel?" Could his Thorin.. could the king really...

He watched Thorin's expression flinch slightly, the dwarf trying to pull away but unable to go anywhere, on his back under the hobbit as he was. And Bilbo remembered that he'd only taught himself Khuzdul long after Thorin had passed on. He waited with what he meant to be an encouraging expression, and patience that growing old had pounded into him; joyfully glad, but not really surprised, down at the honest bottom of his soul, to finally see a hard swallow and a brave stare replace the worry. A bit of hope even snuck into the tone, "Yes, my hobbit..."

Bilbo's smile widened slowly, eyes very, very bright. His. Thorin not only forgave him and considered him a friend again... Thorin was *his*!

He leaned down and *finally* dared curve a hand along that prickly, bearded jaw, whispering back, "And I love you too, my king."

Oh! Oh that was. Bilbo's eyes burned with brief tears to see such a joy-filled look on his king. This was what Thorin *should* have looked like! If only life had not robbed him so. He should have had a lifetime of joy and glory! Should have been the greatest king of Erebor!

But as he felt the world spin and the cushy bed of soft grass appear under his back, and the so-carefully controlled weight of his dwarf lay on him with nothing but gentleness, he remembered that hard-won peace was sweeter than the one that had no challenge to make it grow strong and be appreciated. And he would not exchange the hungry long-denied passion in the kiss that parted his lips for all the respectable peace that ever existed.


End file.
